The seat of the fire was now an
immense grassy circle, with a low wall of blackened peat all
around it.
In the morning an endless succession of small creeks was passed,
screened by deep valleys which fell in from hills and muskegs
to the south, and at noon, jaded with slow travel, we reached
Athabasca Landing. A long hill leads down to the flat, and from
its brow we had a striking view of the village below and of the
noble river, which much resembles the Saskatchewan, minus its
prairies. We were now fairly within the bewildering forest of
the north, which spreads, with some intervals of plain, to the
69th parallel of north latitude; an endless jungle of shaggy
spruce, black and white poplar, birch, tamarack and Banksian pine.
At the Landing we pitched our tents in front of the Hudson's Bay
Company's post, where had stood, the previous year, a big canvas
town of "Klondikers." Here they made preparation for their
melancholy journey, setting out on the great stream in every
species of craft, from rafts and coracles to steam barges.
Here was begun an episode of that world-wide craze, which has
run through all time, and almost every country, in which were
enacted deeds of daring and suffering which add a new chapter
to the history of human fearlessness and folly.
The Landing was a considerable hamlet for such a wilderness,
being the shipping point to Mackenzie River, and, via the Lesser
Slave Lake, to the Upper Peace.
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